


Seventeen

by KennyMoonFic



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Boys Kissing, Cock Slut, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay, M/M, Male Slash, One Shot, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Sappy, Shameless Smut, Teen/Adult Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennyMoonFic/pseuds/KennyMoonFic
Summary: “In his world, Miles was seventeen. It was an age where everything was hormones and emotions and growing body parts and clumsy hands and need.In Peter’s world, he was forty-one. Forty-one was kind of sexy.”
Relationships: Miles Morales/Peter B. Parker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially Porn with Feelings™ between a grown-ass man and a teenager. This is what happens when I’m supposed to be working on my other Peter/Miles fic, but all I can think about is them doing this. Peter is a mess, Miles is shamelessly addicted to that Peter Parker D, and I’m going to hell once again.

In his world, Miles was seventeen.

It was an age where everything was hormones and emotions and growing body parts and clumsy hands and need. Want. At seventeen, everything was want. The world was at Miles’ fingertips at seventeen. He could feel it. Feel himself on the cusp of adulthood, becoming a man, and all the pressure that came with it. It was so close he could taste it, but as he stretched to reach for it, he couldn’t grasp it in his fingertips. Not a kid but not yet a man.

At seventeen, his body felt like a man. He was all legs and hands and feet. And hair, so much hair. On the contours of his jaw, his chin. His legs, holy shit his legs. On them, between them, a little trail leading up his belly. He was tall now—taller than all of his classmates. Was that a Spider-Man thing? It was probably a Spider-Man thing.

Hormones were _definitely_ a thing at seventeen. The only thing harder than keeping his secret identity under wraps was keeping his dick in his pants at seventeen. His dick. He was acutely aware of it. It was _bigger_ , heavier, more sensitive—and at seventeen, literally anything could make it spring to life, standing at attention. A heavy breeze against his Spider-Man suit. _Hard_. Brushing past someone on the subway. _Hard_. Watching his classmates change in the locker room. _Hard_. The guy who sits in front of him in math class lending him a pencil. _Hard_. Being seventeen was really _hard_.

In Peter’s world, he was forty-one.

Miles learned there wasn’t a lot of difference between being thirty-eight, or forty, or forty-one. At some point your body stops changing, your hands stop growing a mile a minute, and your dick stops waving at literally any person willing to give you the time of day.

At seventeen, forty-one was a lifetime away. Peter had little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed and flecks of gray hair. Instead of long skinny limbs and bones everywhere, Peter had broad muscles and thick everything. _More_ everything. More belly, more mass, more hair, more power. Forty-one was kind of sexy. At seventeen, Miles wasn’t sure if he wanted to _be_ Peter or if he just wanted him. Miles couldn’t tell the difference.

* * *

Peter came to Miles’ Earth-1610 sometimes. As it turns out, Peter’s Earth-TRN701 was just one multidimensional jump away from Miles’, which made them almost like dimensional neighbors in their connected plane of existence.

Once word of its capabilities got out, the technology of the Super Collider had been exploited a hundred times over. Improved upon, perfected by people who understood technology far better than Miles or Peter ever would. There was a jump station in Manhattan, like a portal for inter-dimensional travel. The technology was finally ready last year. Go in the portal. _ZAP_. Come out in another dimension. There were laws and regulations now. An Inter-dimensional Travel License. Miles was too young to take the test at seventeen, but Peter had one.

They could communicate via phone now. Miles liked knowing Peter was thinking about him when he texted late at night. Miles was thinking about him, too. Always thinking about him. Peter hadn’t come through the portal for six months. He was getting back on his feet. Again. They talked sometimes, but never about that. Never about Peter’s failures. But they did tonight.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi Peter.”

“Listen, I’m gonna be in the area tomorrow. Can I—“

“Yeah.” It didn’t matter what he was going to say. Miles would let him do it.

“Cool, okay yeah. Can I uh, crash for a couple days?”

“I could ask my parents.”

“NO. Y’know, I think I’ll just—“

“You could crash at my dorm. Nobody’s there on weekends.”

“Yeah. Okay yeah, thanks.”

“Are you okay, Peter?”

“No, it’s uh...I don’t have a place right now. I’m kind of like, in between right now.”

“In between what?”

“Relationships, homes, jobs, that kinda stuff...” he trailed off.

“Right on, well what time—“

“I mean I’m actually already...here, right now. But it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll just—“

“Do you wanna come now?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

When Peter stepped off the bus that warm June evening, he was all clingy white t-shirt and biceps and big masculine hands. At seventeen, those were the things Miles noticed.

They hugged, clumsy and tense. When did hugging become so awkward? At seventeen, Miles was as about as tall as Peter. Their bodies were pressed flush, hips level. Since when did hugs involve chests and dicks? The last time they’d hugged, Miles could only remember strong arms and soft belly. He lingered too long, he knew he did. Whether Peter knew it too, he wasn’t sure. His face was buried in Peter’s neck and he was smelling him. Breathed in deep. He smelled like sweat, which made Miles dizzy.

There was no curfew on Friday nights—most of the kids were home for the weekend. Peter slung his bag over his shoulder as they scaled the dormitory building. Miles crawled in through the cracked-open window behind Peter as the man held out one of those impossibly large hands to pull him through. Miles hands were sweaty—or were Peter’s? He couldn’t tell. He lingered too long again. Peter’s thumb rubbed his knuckles and it felt—were knuckles sexual? It felt sexual.

Peter released his hand, standing back to look at him. Taking him in. His eyes were all over Miles’ body—memorizing, measuring.

“You’re really big, Miles.”

“So are you.” Fuck. _Why?_

“Yeah, uh...how old are you now?”

“Seventeen.”

“Wow. The last time I saw you, you were...” Miles never found out what it is that he used to be. Peter was hugging him again, and this time it was definitely Peter that lingered too long. Peter smelled his hair, he could feel it. Miles put some space between them before his body could react.

Miles lay back on the bottom bunk against the pillows, and Peter sat in a chair. Miles didn’t remember things being so awkward around Peter. He was nervous. A lot had changed in six months. Hormone stuff. Teenager stuff. His body. Six months was a long time to miss someone. Six months was a long time when you’re seventeen.

They talked awhile. Miles rattled off about school and Spider-Man stuff and Peter listened. Like really listened. Smiled and laughed and furrowed his brow and just took everything in. He was a good listener, not so good at talking.

Miles wanted to talk about Peter.

“So like, are you cool? Did something happen?”

“I don’t know....I tried to fix the whole Mary Jane thing. Again. She was letting me stay there a while,” Peter sighed. “But I don’t think she was feeling it anymore when her new boyfriend moved in.”

“So where are you gonna stay?”

“Ah, well I’ve been staying at this motel for a while...” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, “until I stopped paying.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“I mean, that’s kinda why I’m here,” he frowned. “Tomorrow I’m gonna go see Aunt May.”

“Like maybe stay here? In this dimension?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged.

Miles looked the man over, or tried to but his eyes kept lingering on the clingy white t-shirt. Too tight over his chest, belly sticking out, biceps popping. It was too small.

“Where’d you get that shirt?” Not what he’d meant to ask.

“It’s yours.” Not the answer Miles was expecting.

Something about that was exciting. Made him horny. Made his dick wake up and take notice. He pulled the covers over his lap.

“It looks good on you.”

Peter stared at him a while, maybe studying him or maybe lost in thought. “I missed you...it’s been a while.”

“I missed you more.” A stupid thing to say, but it made Peter smirk.

“You grew a lot,” Peter reminded him. He already knew.

“You don’t even know,” his cock was so hard under the covers.

“When I saw you at Christmas, you were a lot skinnier and shorter. Smaller, I guess.”

“What am I, now?” He wanted to hear Peter say it.

Peter closed his eyes. “A man.” That’s not what he was expecting. He would take it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a heavy silence that followed. Miles slipped a hand beneath the blanket and under the waistband of his shorts, idly thumbing his cock. He looked at Peter. A hot mess. Overgrown stubble on his jaw. Hair disheveled. Dirty hands. That goddamn t-shirt that was much too tight. At seventeen, Miles thought he could do anything. What were consequences, anyway? Would any of this matter when he was forty-one?

“Peter?”

“Miles.”

“I’ve just been thinking a lot...” he wished one of their Spider-Man powers was mind-reading so he didn’t have to say it. Just let Peter figure it out and decide what he wants to do with the information.

“About what?”

“I don’t know if I should say it.”

Peter’s breath was shallow. Miles could hear it across the room. “I think you should, Miles.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I kinda think how like...I’ve never _been_ with anyone before, and I—“

“What, like sex?”

“Yeah,” he was blushing now. Not sure if Peter could see it through his deep complexion, but it was there.

“Do you think about that a lot?”

“Yeah.”

The tension in the room was thick and palpable, like they were wading through water that was getting too high. Should they turn back, or just swim in it?

“Is there a girl you like?”

“Not a girl,” Miles breathed, swiping his thumb across the head of his cock. It was slippery. He gave Peter a look that said ‘ _I dare you to ask’._ Wanted him to.

“A boy?”

At seventeen, Miles thought he knew everything. Like that Peter definitely probably was a responsible enough adult to brush off his advances and not let it proceed beyond innocent teasing. But at seventeen, he was wrong about a lot of things, too.

“A man.” Peter cocked an eyebrow, maybe surprised. Maybe curious. “He lives in another dimension though.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Peter stood to cross the space between them, “I would think you were about to get yourself into a lot of trouble, kid.” He sat down at the edge of the bed. Bunk beds weren’t good for this sort of thing. He had to duck his head really low. He settled for laying on his side next to Miles, propped up with his chin in his hand.

Miles shrugged. Tried to look cool, like a man. Looked at Peter with lips parted, eyes wanting, tongue flicking out across his lip nervously. His hand was still down his pants under the blanket. They were sitting too close now and he couldn’t chance it.

“Does this _man_ know yet?”

“No, you think I should tell him?”

Peter took a leap of faith, or maybe just a really bad decision—he did make a lot of those, after all. He put his hand on Miles thigh over the blanket. Didn’t say anything, just allowed it to be there and waited for his reaction. That mind-reading thing would really come in handy right about now.

“It’s really good to see you, Miles. It’s hard for me to believe you’re not a kid anymore,” stating the glaringly obvious once again. He seemed to be fixated on how big and grown Miles was—like somehow Miles would forget lest Peter wasn’t there to remind him every time he spoke.

“It hasn’t been _that_ long, man. Was I a kid six months ago?”

“It felt like it.”

“How does it feel now?”

“Like I wanna kiss you.”

Miles wasn’t sure if the way everything moved in slow motion was a Spider-Man thing or just a teenage hormone thing, but felt it felt like someone had pushed a button to slow down time when Peter leaned in close. Miles met him halfway. They stopped somewhere in the middle, foreheads pressed together.

“So kiss me,” Miles challenged him.

“Do you think that man from the other dimension will be jealous when he finds out?”

“Shut up, Peter. You know who I’m talking about.”

“So tell me.”

“It’s you, Peter.”

When Peter’s lips brushed against his own, Miles let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. The kiss was fleeting, hesitant, teasing. Like Peter was testing the waters to see if he’d take the bait. Miles took it. He kissed back, just lips at first. Kissed Peter’s lips until his were wet and swollen and they had kissed as many ways you possibly could with just lips against lips, skin against skin.

There were a lot of firsts at seventeen, but his first kiss was the best one.

And then Peter opened his mouth, just enough to coax Miles into doing the same. Until their tongues were touching, and everything was wet and hot and eager. It felt like Peter became a part of him, no delineation between where Peter’s mouth ended and his began. Like they were just mouths and tongues and lips and a lot of spit.

And his hand! Miles almost forgot about the man’s hand on his thigh. It wasn’t sitting idly anymore—it was squeezing. Stroking a trail up and down his thigh, getting closer to where he wanted it to be but not close enough or fast enough for his liking. He couldn’t decide if he should focus on the kiss or the hand—because there was no way he could process both simultaneously without his senses being overloaded.

“Have you ever done this before?” Peter whispered against his lips. Of course he hadn’t. If he had done this before he wouldn’t be so inexperienced, so clumsy, so needy.

Miles shook his head—it was all he could manage. That seemed to give Peter pause, slowed him down like he’d resolved to take his time and be more gentle. Cupped Miles’ face and ran fingers over his curls. Nuzzled his stubbly cheek on Miles’ smooth skin. Hummed soothingly into his mouth.

“Should we keep going?”

Why ask? The answer would always be yes—even though Miles wasn’t sure what ‘ _keep going_ ’ meant. Keep kissing just like that? Keep going even further? It didn’t really matter, anyway. He would keep going all the same. He nodded eagerly.

Peter pulled the blanket off and guided Miles to lay back on the pillow, the older man’s upper body draped over him as he leaned down for another kiss. This time his fingers found their way to the hem of Miles’ t-shirt, fluttering softly across the skin of his belly as they slipped beneath. Their skin touching felt like one of Miles’ electrical zaps. Oh wait, that _was_ one of his zaps, pulsing through his body with a crack. Peter retracted his hand, wincing.

“Um, sorry. Sometimes when I get a little excited...”

“Are you nervous, Miles?”

“Yeah.”

“Just relax. It’s just a kiss, right?” he smiled warmly at Miles, soothing him and reassuring him.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything Miles had been missing. All of his teenage fantasies and nights spent crying for Peter before they knew they’d ever see each other again. He had probably loved Peter a long time before his seventeen year old heart could ever understand what that even meant, to love somebody. Could they ever be more than this?

“Peter, please—“

“It’s okay, Miles. Tell me what you want me to do.”

‘ _Do whatever you want to me,_ ’ is what he _would_ have said if all his blood was in his brain and not in his cock. Instead he just whimpered.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Miles nodded as big hands reached to lift up his t-shirt. He sat up a little as Peter pulled it off, Miles’ bare chest and belly on display for him. He had light muscles on his chest, taught belly, and well defined arms from all the training he’d done. Would that be enough for Peter?

The man looked him over, eyes glazed and lips parted. Miles wanted to ask him to take off that damn t-shirt stretched out over his body, but at seventeen he wasn’t man enough. He was nervous, heart pounding in his chest, hands sweating.

Maybe mind reading was a thing after all, because Peter hooked his fingers under the t-shirt, pulling it up. Struggling to get out of it. Miles couldn’t stifle his laugh in time as he watched Peter try to wiggle his way out. But when it finally came off, he wasn’t laughing anymore.

Peter was all thick muscle and slightly rounded belly. His chest was smooth but he had a little trail of hair on his tummy. Big muscular arms. He looked powerful. Miles felt small beside him.

Peter lay beside him again, their bodies pressed close. Hands exploring each other, feeling chests and bellies, grabbing shoulders and arms, scratching backs. Both of them sighing and gasping at the unfamiliar sensations. And then, Peter leaned in, dipping his head down to kiss Miles’ bare chest. Nuzzling his face against the skin.

Miles wound fingers through Peter’s hair. It felt so soft and different from his own tight curls. Peter seemed to like that, sighing at his touch. Lips trailing slowly down until Peter was kissing his belly. Tasting it, his breath making Miles’ hair stand on end. His face was so close to the waistband of his shorts, there was _no_ way Peter wasn’t aware of Miles dick like _one_ inch from his cheek. He’d been ignoring it. Maybe he was being polite, maybe he wasn’t planning on going that far. But he knew it was there.

Miles, with his fingers still stroking Peter’s hair, did something reckless—as seventeen year olds do. He pushed just a little. Just an inch. Pushed Peter’s head lower so that he was face-to-face with Miles’ dick tenting his shorts. He could feel Peter’s breath through the thin material.

Miles hadn’t thought about what would happen if they got this far. Didn’t think it was possible. But now they were here and Peter was going to have to make a choice. Miles had already made his.

“Is this what you want?” Miles didn’t know what was being offered. To take it out? Feel it? Suck on it? Or just keep breathing on it through his shorts. He nodded anyway. He’d take any of those. How far was Peter willing to go?

Peter nuzzled his face in it, breathing in deeply. That was something. Miles’ hips lifted off the bed in search of more—anything more would be enough.

“Peter, can you—“ it didn’t matter what he was going to ask, because Peter was pulling Miles’ shorts and underwear down, freeing his aching cock as it slapped against his belly. Miles felt vulnerable—dick exposed, shorts around his ankles, Peter’s watchful gaze taking it all in. How did they get here? How did they go from whatever they were to Peter exploring every inch of his body, claiming it as his own—in the span of maybe a hour?

“Shit, Miles...you’re really big,” Peter sounded just as surprised at this discovery as he’d been to see how tall Miles had grown. Except this time, Miles didn’t mind being reminded. Was he big? Maybe for a seventeen year old. He had no frame of reference. He wondered if Peter did.

Peter sat up and wrapped his big hand around Miles—rough, calloused hands on velvety-smooth cock. Miles’ eyes rolled back, toes curled. He hissed in air through his teeth. “Yeah, that. Do that,” Miles whimpered.

“Feels good?” Peter’s brow was furrowed in concentration, lower lip between his teeth as he stroked...really...slow. Miles couldn’t decide if he wanted to slowly ride the waves of agonizing pleasure or if he wanted to ask Peter to hurry up, beat his dick into submission, get him off already.

He opted for the torture.

“Yeah!” he gasped out, breaths coming in ragged. “Keep going.” He knew what that meant, this time. Keep doing _exactly_ that and don’t you dare stop.

“You’re doing good, just relax,” Peter reassured him. Miles _was_ relaxed, or at at least he thought he was until Peter picked up the pace, abandoning his long, slow strokes for a faster, steady rhythm. How was he supposed to relax when Peter was doing _that_?

Peter slipped a hand down the front of his own pants, and it was the first time Miles realized the man was just as hard as he was. That he wanted this just as much, maybe even needed it. The sense of urgency to see Peter’s cock was overwhelming.

“I wanna touch you,” Miles choked out. Peter’s hand abandoned Miles in favor of sliding off the rest of his clothes. Both Spider-Men were naked, save for Miles’ shorts around his ankles and the socks on his feet. But why was he worrying about his socks when Peter was climbing on top of him to straddle his hips?

Peter had to duck his head not to hit it on the top bunk. But holy shit, their cocks were pressed together between them. Miles had no idea that was even an option—was that a thing? It definitely had to be a thing, because Peter was sliding their erections together and Miles’ brain wasn’t working anymore. Couldn’t think. _Fuck_.

“Fuck,” he actually said that part out loud. Where did Peter learn to do this and holy fuck, Miles was finally noticing the man’s dick for the first time. It was thick and veiny, perfectly cut and a good two inches longer than Miles’. He shouldn’t be surprised—everything about Peter was bigger, thicker, juicier, manlier. Miles’ mouth was watering with how badly he wanted to suck on it. To taste him, pleasure him, swallow him up.

Anyway, that would have to wait. Peter had wrapped two large hands around their cocks, holding them together. Was speech a thing Miles was even capable of anymore? He wasn’t sure, but he tried.

“Ahh!” he cried out. Nope, speech wasn’t a thing anymore. And that was okay, because Peter was stroking them now, picking up the pace. The two hands were definitely more for Peter’s benefit—he was long enough to wrap both hands around his cock, one over the other. He worked in a steady rhythm, strong grip, up and down.

The sounds coming out of Peter’s mouth were unbelievable. Shallow gasps, slow and deep groans, cursing under his breath. Miles was much louder, whining and crying out. Higher pitched voice, more frantic, needy. One thing _was_ the same—the way they were both rocking their hips to meet each pump of Peter’s hands. Involuntary and uninhibited.

Miles was shouting out now, his voice echoing in the small space. _Did someone just knock on the wall?_ Everything felt outside of his control. He was just going through the motions of whatever his body wanted to do, allowing it to overcome him. Pleasure building up steadily inside him. At seventeen, Miles had never felt anyone’s hand on him but his own. He wasn’t going to last—his teenage hormones and complete inexperience would guarantee this would all come to a premature end. Peter didn’t look like he was too far behind.

“That’s it, buddy. Come for me.”

Miles closed his eyes shut tight as he came. He cried out, clawing at the sheets beneath him just to find something to hold on to, toes curling as he dug his heels into the bed. Peter eased him through it, worked every last drop out of him as Miles spilled all over Peter’s hands. All over Peter’s cock. That was an image that would be burned into his mind for at least another seventeen years. Peter’s dick dripping with Miles’ cum. Splashed across his knuckles. Running down his balls.

Miles needed to taste himself on Peter. He wasn’t sure where that urge came from—he’d never tasted himself before. How would they taste mixed together? Peter was kissing him again, leaning over him to find his lips. It didn’t matter that Miles’ cum was splashed across their bellies and they were sticky with sweat—Peter held him close as he kissed Miles softly. But Miles wasn’t done yet. Once again, that mind-reading thing would be pretty useful in times like these, but he’d have to find the courage to ask.

“Please, Peter,” he whispered against the man’s lips. “Can I suck it?” If that didn’t work, he wasn’t beneath begging. But Peter was rolling off to lay on the bed beside him, and Miles was pretty sure it was a ‘yes’.

“Shit, yeah. Suck it for me...make me come, Miles.”

Miles’ heart was pounding out of his chest. He positioned himself lower on the bed so his face was level with Peter’s hips. With his cock. Somehow it looked even bigger now that it was just inches away from his face. Regardless, Miles was determined. If he could please Peter, show him he was a man, make him unravel and cry out and grip the blankets and call out Miles’ name—then maybe, just maybe, Peter would stay. Would realize this wasn’t just teenage experimentation, wasn’t just practice. Miles would have to show him this was the real thing. Make him want more of it.

With that, he leaned in and ran his tongue along Peter’s length, lapping up his own cum and loving each drop. Because Peter did that. Drained it lovingly from Miles. Worked hard for it. He wouldn’t let it go to waste. When he was done, he turned his attention to the head, where Peter’s own precum was starting to collect. He licked that up too, earning himself a loud gasp from his partner.

“Suck on it, Miles. Can you fit it in your mouth?” He wasn’t sure, but he would die trying. He licked teasingly before sucking tentatively at the head. God, even that was big, too. Peter’s hands were gripping his hair, keeping him focused on the task at hand. Miles had no idea what to do, but he took a leap of faith and lowered his mouth around Peter’s length. Started sucking. Bobbed his head on it, tried to keep a steady pace.

“Oh wow, that’s...yeah keep sucking, Miles. You’re doing so good. Keep sucking for me. Don’t stop.” Peter had been pretty quiet up until now, but Miles’ lips around his cock made him vocal. It felt really good to have Peter take charge, give him direction, tell him what to do. He had to get this right. Miles tried to edge his way deeper, but it was hard to fit it all in his mouth at once. He felt himself gagging as Peter hit the back of his throat. Spit dribbling down his chin. Tears staining his cheeks. Choking and sputtering as Peter’s hands held him there. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just keep going.”

Seventeen is proving yourself. That you’re somebody, that you’re enough. Even when you don’t quite know who you are or your place in the world just yet. Even when the person you’re really trying to prove something to is yourself. Miles needed Peter to see him. Not as a kid or an occasional sidekick or even a friend. Needed Peter to see him as a man, as an equal. As somebody worth loving. Worth having. Worth keeping. That thought is what kept Miles going as he choked down Peter’s cock, letting himself go as he took every last inch that he could fit into his mouth—lips swollen and jaw aching, tears spilling over. He had something to prove.

“Mmm, that looks so good, Miles. You love that cock, don’t you? Love choking on it.” The words were broken up by ragged breaths. Miles tried to say something like ‘yes’ but it came out like ‘mmph’, but he wasn’t about to stop now. Peter was close. He didn’t have to say it—Miles knew. Hips were pushing off the bed, dick somehow getting even harder, veins popping, chest heaving. He was really close.

“Shit, Miles. Take my cum,” Peter choked out as he released. Miles sucked him through it, felt Peter’s cock pulsing in his mouth. Throbbing. He couldn’t get enough. Addicted. Didn’t waste a drop as the taste of Peter filled him up. Dribbled down the corner of his mouth, but he licked it up. Sucked on it some more, just to be sure he had received every last drop. Couldn’t stop sucking until Peter pulled him off, and even then he didn’t want to.

“Miles,” Peter breathed out. Was it a question or a statement? “Come here, Miles.” He made his way up the bed to lay beside Peter on the pillow. He melted as Peter kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips. Tasted himself on Miles’ tongue. In that moment, everything made sense.

“Peter, I—“ How could he put it all into words? I need you. I want you. Maybe I kind of love you? He cuddled into Peter’s side, burying his face in the curve of his neck. Not sure if he could look him in the eyes, but needing to tell him. His heart was beating out of his chest, stomach fluttering, blood pounding in his ears when he finally found the words to say. “I wanna to be with you.”

Peter lifted Miles’ chin with his finger, bringing their eyes to meet. Kissed the tip of his nose, pressed their foreheads together. “Then be with me,” his eyes fluttered shut as he brushed his lips to Miles’ once more.

“How will we see each other? Will you come here again? Are you gonna stay?”

“Shhh,” Peter smiled against his cheek. “You’re seventeen...we have a lot of time to figure it out.”


End file.
